Hands shook me gently, and I curled tighter to defend against the touch. No more. Please, no more. I was shaken again, then a faint sigh drifted away from me. For a moment I tensed, waiting for those horrible sensations and chattering voices to return, and when they didn't, I slowly crawled to my knees. In front of me, walking amid the monoliths like gravestones was a familiar figure. His horns curled back against his head like a ram, and at his scaled side hung a pickaxe. The Argonian wore no armor, nor any clothing at all, but as he walked I heard him humming a familiar idle tune.
I swayed wildly on my feet, reeling into a standing slab. My mind felt empty, and I couldn't quite remember why I was in this strange place. Someone was waiting for me, but I couldn't remember who it was. Resting my forehead against the unnaturally cool stone, a faint vibration thrummed through my skull, soothing the confusion clouding my head. Maybe it didn't matter why I was here.
The Argonian kept walking with steps that neither created prints nor sound, and seeing as he was the only intelligent, much less visible, entity I had seen thus far, I followed him. Quietly, I trailed in his wake like a lost dog, his silence and ignorance of my presence only drawing me closer. Why do I feel like I know him?
At last, he turned to face me.
"What do you want?"
"I...don't know. What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same question." His eyes were guarded and distant, and for some reason this hurt me.
"I don't know that either. Who are you?" I felt so desperate to know him--to know why I knew him.
"I don't remember my name anymore. Unless you want something, I suggest you leave. It's not safe here."
In my head, I heard the dark chuckle and chatter of those spirits. My skin broke out in gooseflesh as my panic from before threatened to resurface. The wall loomed a little taller, beckoning like an alluring lover filled with malice.
"He's always watching. Ever since I came here, he's been watching..."
"Who?"
"The Reaper. He comes to me sometimes. He always seems to be waiting for something--or someone." The Argonian regarded me shrewdly, a slow greedy smile tugging sharply across his lips. Suddenly, I remembered who he was, why I came to this awful place, and who was waiting for me.
"Derkeethus." The sound came out as barely more than a whisper, but the spirit's eyes widened.
"What? How do you know that name? Who are you?"
"It's me, Gwaihen. Henny. I've come to bring you back."
"I don't know you. Who are you really? Why are you here?" His eyes narrowed in deep suspicion when I didn't answer immediately. "You're the one The Reaper's looking for. I know it. I can feel it in my--well I may not have bones, but I'm fairly certain I did at one time. I bet he'd let me go free if I brought you to him." With a lunge, he grabbed at me, only to find his hands slipping through my arm, which tingled unpleasantly in response. We both backed away and circled each other.
"Derkeethus. That's your name. Don't you remember it? Don't you remember me?"
"You're no one to tell me who I am, stranger. If I can't take you with me, then leave me alone. Maybe then that blasted demon will forget about me."
"No! You have to come back with me!" I closed the distance between us, ready to grab his arm and drag him back to the surface if I had to.
"Back off! I don't know who you think you are, but you've no right to come here and make such outlandish assertions."
With that, the Argonian stalked across the landscape, passing through shriveled bushes and trees as he climbed a low hill. My lips drew tight as I plunged after him in a weaving path across the dry sandy ash. Not once did Derkeethus look back, though I was certain he knew I was still there.
When we crested the hill, he turned his head just enough to peer at me. "Why are you still following me?"
"Because you are Derkeethus. You were my friend and companion, and maybe something else, and we once shared a dragon's soul. Don't you remember? We could hear each other's thoughts and move through each other's bodies...and-and...well..."
"Were? So I'm no longer living, then." Derk laughed coarsely like a flock of crows around carrion. The amusement never reached his eyes, and his expression hardened as he sobered. "Go back to where you came from. Your kind don't belong here. Whatever it is you keep holding on to, let it go."
"Wait! Please! Don't go!" I stepped in front of him with my hands raised, as if that could do anything to stop him from walking through me. With a quick glance, he looked at my right palm--the one that bore the spiral-shaped scar from the briarheart. For an instant, a look of recognition crossed his features. He hesitated.
Then, the Argonian clutched at his head, digging his nails into his scaly scalp with a deep hiss. I moved closer to comfort him, and to my surprise, I was shoved to the ground by enough magical force to cause my muscles to seize. Gritting my teeth, I rolled onto my side and started to crawl after him.
"Stay away from me!" he cried in horror.
Those ghostly feet glided down the hill out of sight until I was left utterly alone. For a long time I called out his name, pleading for him to come back. I made promises to him and to the gods, but neither responded. Around me, the sky roiled in a constant storm while lightning crashed against far-off towers housing strange shapes. The chattering voices and horrible cackling never came back. There was no one.
Eventually, I managed to stand, though the ground spun slowly beneath my feet and I had a hard time remembering how to walk in a straight line. My stomach felt cold and heavy, and my eyes felt like they were burning inside my skull. I wondered if I had a hangover, but then I couldn't recall drinking any alcohol. Valindor was drinking, not me. Pushing such distracting sensations aside, I continued down the hill, back toward the point where I found Derkeethus, continuing to call for him.
By the time I reached the cluster of gravestones, my voice was too hoarse to make any sounds. My cries came out in a thin wheeze. "Where is Serana?" I wondered as I leaned against one of the stones, its cool, hard pressure on my back was soothing. Soft, rhythmic vibrations rumbled down my spine in a pattern akin to a heartbeat. My eyelids started to droop.
"Maybe I should light a fire so she can see me."
I pulled back my leggings to inspect the slash created by the winged Imga creature, for it had been stinging and burning. Sand and dirt clung to the wound, coating the thin, broken threads used to stitch the gash closed. It had stopped bleeding, though the flesh looked angry and red. This is bad. I hadn't any water, so I spit on the site, trying to clean out. Doing so hurt and left me feeling dry-mouthed and exhausted.
I gave up on lighting the fire. Instead, I turned over on my side and rested my cheek against the gravestone. "Maybe I'll just sleep a while."
The idea sounded incredibly appealing. I'd just sleep and forget about Derkeethus and how he couldn't remember me. Or how I didn't know how to bring him back. I thought of the Reaper. He was the one laughing, I know it. That chilling laughter replayed in my mind over and over as my surroundings merged with my thoughts, turning into nightmares and hallucinations.
Still, the thrumming in the stone beat on and on.
